Fire and Ice
by TangiblyYours
Summary: "If, by some force of fate or miracle, he managed to reach James, he didn't think they would be able to leave the cabin. They would both be stranded." Logan receives a phone call in the middle of the night, the snow is falling, & something is very wrong.


**Title: **Fire and Ice

**Summary: **"If, by some force of fate or miracle, Logan managed to reach James, he didn't think they would be able to leave the cabin. They would _both_ be stranded." Logan receives a phone call in the middle of the night, the snow is falling, and something is very wrong. James/Logan slash.

**Warnings: **Some language and very mature themes.**  
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**Disclaimer: **I do not own Big Time Rush nor any of the characters involved. No copyright infringement intended.**  
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It was three-fifteen in the morning when Logan was pulled from his dreams by a shrill, unrelenting tone resonating throughout his bedroom.

His eyes opened for a moment, revealing the sliver of dark brown that circled his pupils, blown wide with incomprehension and exhaustion. For several moments, the origin of the sound was almost unfathomable to him, returning and faltering with the persistence of a metronome. He shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts and focus just as the noise ceased completely, no longer ringing loudly.

Ringing. _Oh._

With a sigh, he opened his eyes completely and shifted toward his bedside table, muttering a mild expletive. His gaze caught on his phone immediately, the front screen lit up with a dull glow, informing him that he had two missed call. The white light flashed for a moment, as though punctuating its urgency, and Logan debated whether or not he wanted to see who called him or turn around and try to fall back asleep. Who would possibly be calling him at quarter after three?

He ran a hand through his hair, causing it to stand up in further dishevelment as he reached for the silver device, flipping it open.

_2 Missed Calls. Saturday, January 3rd, 3:17a.m._

With another deep sigh, Logan clicked 'view', assuming that it would be an unfamiliar number, perhaps restricted, that had simply dialed his number by accident. However, what he hadn't expected was to see the familiar name in white font against the black backdrop. Logan checked the clock again, staring at the numbers for a moment, and trying to decide why James would possibly be calling him at almost three-thirty in the morning. A trill of apprehension trailed down his spine, his muscles tensing slightly as several scenarios flashed through his mind, none of them particularly desirable.

_James... Wasn't he suppose to go to his family's cabin tonight? Just a few miles outside of town, holed up in a warm, cozy cabin? What could have possibly gone wrong?_

Logan sat up slowly, completely awake now as thoughts flooded through his mind, anxiety swelling in the pit of his stomach. Before he had even registered his own movements, he was walking through his dark bedroom toward the window, pulling the light curtain back and allowing the moonlight to swath across his features. He flinched for a moment, repelled by the light that was reflected off from the mass of snow that seemed to fall in clumps from the sky.

Outside, the wind whirred loudly, causing the mass of snow to drift across any surface it could find. A large blanket of the snow had accumulated on the ground's surface, veiling most of Logan's surroundings beneath a sheath of pure white. His window was covered by an opaque film of ice, and Logan wasn't sure whether or not that was the reason why his vision seemed obscured. He squinted, rubbing his hand against the cold surface and, once again, cringing from the chill that lingered on his flesh. It didn't help much; the weather outside still looked brutal and unforgiving, and Logan was immediately reminded of the reason he was awake in the first place.

He glanced down at the phone in his hand, more fear swelling within him as he quickly pushed 'talk' to redial the number that had last called him. With a hard swallow, he brought the phone to his ear, a coldness settling over him that had nothing to do with the weather as he listened.

The ringing finally stopped and there was a mild 'click' that signaled that James has answered; however, Logan was not greeted by James' usually warm and welcoming voice, but rather a cold, harsh silence that caused the anxiety in Logan's stomach to solidify into something tangible.

"James?" Logan whispered quietly, clutching the phone and fearing any answer that James had to offer—fearing a lack of response even more.

After another long pause, Logan heard a muffled sob through the phone's earpiece, the sound so restrained and desperate that Logan was sure he was clutching his phone so tightly that it was bound to snap in two.

"James...what's wrong? Are you alright?" His vocal cords seemed to be fused together, his tone faltering and trembling as he tried to mask his own panic. And suddenly, Logan was moving again, knowing that something was terribly wrong. He grabbed a pair of jeans, pulling them on as held the phone in the juncture of his shoulder and neck, waiting—_just fucking waiting—_for his best friend to say _anything._

"N-n-no," a muted voice spoke, the tone fluctuating and faltering until the word was barely understandable. "I-I, mmm... I ne-e-eed 'elp... 'Mmm hu-r-rt."

Logan stopped dead in his tracks, every muscle in his body freezing with a type of ice and fear that was stifling, rapidly consuming him. He choked on a gasp, clenching his eyes shut as he spoke, "You're hurt? Where are you, James?"

"C-ca-a-abin." A long and drawn out sob followed the word, and Logan could clearly hear the pain that was etched into the other boy's voice.

"Sh, Jamie..." Logan whispered, trying to keep the tears out of his eyes, panic overwhelming him. "I'll be there in five minutes... I'll be there."

Logan clicked the 'end' button before he could decide against it, knowing that he would be able to move faster with both of his hands free—knowing that he would be able to think more clearly without the constant reminder of what was at stake.

He was a flurry of movement, packing up several items, planning for every conceivable situation, and running out to his car in under five minutes. His mind was filled with fused mass of every emotion traveling through his bloodstream, fighting against his rational thought that was screaming at him to drive slower—that if he crashed his car, he wouldn't be able to help James at all.

The storm outside was raging, and despite having cleaned his windows, Logan felt as though he couldn't see further than ten yards ahead of him. The roads were almost impossible to drive on, the thick accumulation of snow veiling a sheet of ice that lined the asphalt. This, he decided as his car got momentarily stuck in the snow, was the most reckless thing he'd ever done. If, by some force of fate or miracle, Logan managed to reach James, he didn't think they would be able to leave the cabin. They would _both_ be stranded.

He growled as his engine died in the middle of the road, his car stuttering and faltering. Or he wouldn't make it to James at all and he would freeze to death in his car, Logan thought with a bitter scowl.

He turned the key in the ignition, listening to his engine whine and complain for a moment before stopping. "_C'mon,_" he growled, beating his fist against the steering wheel. He turned the key again, and with a cry of relief, the engine started with the familiar rumble.

Driving forward, he carefully focused on the road ahead of him, the yellow lines signaling where the lanes were. He felt himself, gently pumping the break, testing the amount of friction he had and noticing that he was sliding every time.

Logan knew it wasn't safe, knew that he should have called someone—_anyone—_to get help rather than braving the elements himself. It was, quite possibly, the stupidest, most irresponsible and dangerous decision he'd ever made, but even knowing this, he didn't regret it. He _would_ make sure his best friend was safe.

And after several minutes of careful focus and driving, Logan saw the cabin that was located about a mile up the hill from the main road. Usually there was a small gravel path that led up the hill, but it was nearly invisible beneath the compact layer of white. He knew that even if he could locate where the turn-off was, he wouldn't be able to drive through the mass of snow—knew that he would be _walking._

Growling and cursing the blizzard that was raging outside the confines of his car, Logan pulled to the side of the road. He paused for a moment, staring out the windshield at the inexorable and unrelenting snow and wind that was whipping back and forth. "Fuck," he mumbled, pulling another winter jacket on over the other one he was already wearing. "_Fuck!_"

He grabbed at every article of clothing that he had brought, pulling on as many socks, gloves, hats, jackets as he possibly could before stuffing the rest of his belongings into the duffel bag. After making sure he was sufficiently covered, Logan put his keys into his bag and threw it over his shoulder.

He jumped out of the car quickly, locking his door and slamming it shut to release some of the pent of frustration that lingered beneath every other emotion he was currently experiencing. The wind felt like a searing blade across his cheeks, burning him as he traveled steadily up the hill. It seemed as though the weather was gradually becoming less forgiving—more unyielding and cruel—and Logan felt the chill run all the way through to his bones.

As he was about three-fourths of the way up the hill, Logan glanced at the screen of his phone before it could be covered by snow. _4:06_ it read, and Logan could feel another vibration of impatient fear and dread rumbling beneath his ribcage.

Several minutes later, Logan finally reached the cabin, noticing that the snow and ice had started creeping up the side of the building, creating an almost effective barrier. The window was covered in solid ice, but beneath that, it didn't appear as though any lights were on inside the cabin. Logan could feel that cold-edge panic slicing through his muscles and organs once again.

He opened the door slowly, barely able to open it enough to get inside, and entered through the crack. The room was cool, only a small bit warmer than the temperature outside, and Logan couldn't see anything as a result of the lack of lighting. "James?" he whispered quietly, trying to listen for the other boy but only able to hear the howl of wind outside.

He searched for a light, and after several minutes he heard a choked sob from the corner of the room. Completely forgetting about the light, Logan ran toward the sound, the need to physically see James almost smothering him—to ease his own panic, to know what had happened, to _help_ his friend.

As he got closer, Logan could see the silhouette of a person huddled in the corner, the entire form shivering and shaking in correspondence to the muffled and choked cries.

Logan removed his gloves, throwing them to the floor as he kneeled down in front of James, reaching out toward the other boy. His hand grasped onto James' bicep, trying to see him in the absence of light, and he could feel the cool moisture that was saturated through the suede jacket. It felt as though the material had been submerged in water, and Logan's hand trailed along the surface until he reached James' glove. It appeared to be just as wet; cold water dripping from the glove into Logan's outstretched hand. "James, God, you're... soaking wet..." Finally, comprehension dawned on Logan, as he clutched onto his friend's rigid arm. James was fucking freezing to death.

"L-lo-oo-gan," James mumbled, his words slurred and lethargic. "S-s-oo _cold. _Hu-urts."

Logan impulsively ripped the glove off from James' hand, knowing that its wet material was doing absolutely nothing to help warm him. Logan clutched the tense hand between his own, and he noticed that the skin was almost completely devoid of all warmth and circulation. "Jamie..." he whispered, tears glazing over his own eyes. "God, you're frozen... Why didn't you take these clothes off? They're making it worse." Pausing for a moment, he took the glove off from James' other hand and rubbed both of them between his, trying to warm them.

Logan's gaze searched his surroundings, his eyes finally having adjusted to the darkness, and it wasn't long before he spotted a lamp on an end table next to the couch.

He quickly stood and turned it on, his movements frantic as his brown eyes trailed across the recently lit cabin room. Trying desperately to focus on what the rational side of his mind was saying—his emotionally side was screaming, "_go back to James!_"—Logan walked toward the fireplace and the thermostat that was on the wall beside it. The fireplace lit instantly as he turned the timer as high as it would go, the heat permeating instantly out toward him. Having done that, Logan turned his attention to the thermostat, turning it on and cranking the heat up to 84 degrees. Almost immediately he heard the heater come on, the sound of the air whooshing from the vents causing him to feel almost delirious with just an ounce of respite. _This is a start._

Logan closed his eyes for a moment, feeling a tremor pass up his spine. He was almost afraid to look at James now that the light had been turned on—so, so afraid to see how ill his friend might look; afraid of seeing James beaten by the freezing cold temperature that was clinging to him with a vengeance. This was the first time that James had cried in years, the first time that he had reached out, asked for help, and admitted to _needing _another person's aid. James was always independent, always in control, and always capable when left to his own devices. Logan couldn't imagine seeing James any differently.

Logan was terrified to see his friend _broken._

With a sigh, Logan turned and walked toward his friend, focusing on the ground rather than the other person in the room. Once he finally reached James, Logan finally allowed his gaze to drift upward, taking in the sight with astonishing speed. James was curled into a ball with his knees pulled up to his chest, shivering from head to toe. Every inch of this clothing was soaking wet, water dripping from the strands of his brunette hair onto the hard-wood flooring. His eyes were clenched shut, either water or tears trailing down the side of his ashen face. The normally tan and sun-kissed flesh was pale and devoid of color, the muscles beneath the flesh obviously spasmodic. Logan could feel his stomach turn.

Without even thinking, he jumped into action once again, leaning down toward James and quickly unzipping the burnt sienna jacket that clung to James' form. Logan's hands twitched slightly, volatile with fear as he pulled at the sleeves. He tossed the jacket aside as soon as he was able to, trying to be gentle with his movements, before attempting with the next article of clothing.

"C'mon, James, you've got to stay awake, alright?" he mumbled, his throat constricting slightly on the words. James' eyelids flutter for a moment and he whimpered quietly, which Logan took as gesture of consent as he continued to peel away the layers of James' clothing.

Logan helped James shift as he continued to undress him, removing all of the damp clothes and praying that the room would heat up at a faster rate than it currently was. It wasn't long before James was left in only his boxers, and the urgency that Logan felt was just beginning to lessen only slightly—at least James wasn't wearing the wet clothing anymore.

He leaned back for a moment, trying to gather a legible thought from the mass of incoherency that was swarming through his mind. He needed to decide on a course of action, something significant that would _help _James, because at this rate, his friend was still freezing to death and probably in an immeasurable amount of pain.

He was studying to be a doctor, so it shouldn't have been this difficult to figure out, Logan thought as he chewed his lower lip. But he was terrified, and this wasn't just some person that he'd never met before. This was _James_, one of his best friends for the past sixteen years of his life, and if he wanted to be completely honest with himself, the only person he'd ever really loved, but he couldn't really bear to consider that at this point.

Finally, an idea struck him, and he began unzipping his own jacket, quickly removing his clothes until his was in the same state of undress as James. Stumbling across the room, Logan remembered where the linen closet was kept and retrieved as many blankets as he could possibly carry. After laying several out in front of the fire, Logan returned to James' side, dropping down beside him. "I'm going to make you better, alright? I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he whispered, wrapping his arms around James' torso and using every ounce of strength in his body to help the other boy stand. He was left supporting all of James' weight as they walked toward the fire and the mass of blankets that rested there.

Once they finally made it to the little make-shift bed that he had created, Logan helped ease James down, following every movement with a type of tenderness and gentle affection that was smoldering. The brunette's hands were still rigid and cold, but they seemed to reach out toward Logan, clinging to him as though his very life depended on it.

As soon as they were both lying down on the blankets by the fire, Logan reached for the other blankets he had intentionally left folded off to the side. Wrapping the blankets around both of their bodies, Logan shifted even closer to James, his arms circling around the other boy's waist and pulling him closer. Every inch of their skin was in contact, Logan making sure that James was closest to the fire and covered by most of their blankets. He was aware that the cabin was beginning to warm up now, the temperature gradually rising, and filling the cabin with a scent almost like cinnamon and cedar wood. Perhaps it had been there all along and this was the first time Logan had really noticed it.

James buried his cold face into the crook of his neck, seeking him out as Logan tightened his grip around the other boy. He noticed the way that James' trembling had eased slightly, that some of the warmth was returning to his pale, chilled flesh.

Logan buried his face in the damp, brunette hair, closing his eyes as he identified where the scent was coming from. It was only then that he realized he had tears trailing down the side of his own cheeks, falling into the brunette hair of his best friend. "Please be okay..." he whispered quietly, unconsciously tugging James closer.

Hours passed as he steadily watched James, noticing the moments when the other boy's breathing evened out, becoming a bit more regular and calm. He studied his features carefully as the color returned, warming the skin that had been so frigid and faded previously. And as Logan watched, he thought.

He thought about his emotions and reactions when he had first heard James' voice through the receiver earlier that night. He thought how his own determination to reach the boy, how desperate and unyielding he had been, despite how dangerous it was outside. And he thought about his feelings for James, how they had grown and blossomed over the years into something inexplicable and definite.

When he was certain the James was no long aware of what was happening around him, Logan pressed his lips to the other boy's forehead, applying just an ounce of pressure. "I love you, so you _have _to be okay..."

How long had Logan had feelings for James that exceeded past that of friendship? How long had it been since he finally accepted the fact that he was _in love_ with his best friend, that he probably had been in love with him for longer than he could really understand?

Logan sighed as he lifted a hand to the brunette hair was the nestled beneath his jaw, running his fingers through the now dry stands. Oh, yes, Logan loved James very, very much.

In fact, had the circumstances been different, Logan would have been beyond thrilled to be holding onto James in such an intimate embrace, skin-to-skin, reveling in each others warmth. However, he was, indeed, aware of the circumstances and reality came crashing down around him.

Logan loved James, but James didn't _love _him.

He chuckled bitterly, closing his eyes and finally succumbing to the darkness of sleep that had evaded him for so long.

—_&—_

Logan awoke the next morning to the sensation of someone nipping and biting at his collar bone. He could feel himself wrapped up in a tight embrace, hair tickling his jaw as the person continued to kiss and suck the sensitive skin going up his neck.

He smiled sleepily for a moment, his grip tightening around the warm body that his arms were wrapped around. Suddenly, memories of the previous night assaulted his mind, his eyes opening and seeing the brunette hair of his best friend.

Logan faltered for a moment, his thoughts caught somewhere in between believing this was all a dream, pulling James' face to his own, and—the rational side of his brain argued—pulling away completely because there was no way this could end well for him.

He focused on the sensation of James' tongue and lips, slowly nipping and licking his way up the base of Logan's neck, and he realized he couldn't exactly fight against it. It was everything he had secretly ever wanted, being offered to him in the most delectable way possible. His smiled darkly and closed his eyes, focusing on the feeling of the warm flesh against his own, the lips that were steadily caressing his neck, sucking, biting, kissing. How could Logan possibly be expected to object to _that_?

His hands traveled up the warm back, the tips of his fingers memorizing every dip and crevice to save the sensation for later, to savor it and revel in the memories that this moment would forever bestow upon him.

James reacted quite positively to Logan's approval, the tanned arms tightening around Logan's waist, pulling their bodies flush together. Biting down with more fervor, Logan could feel the skin of his collar bone being nipped at and abused, pulling the blood to the surface and causing a trill of desire and arousal to shoot through his entire body.

Swallowing down a moan, Logan's hips involuntarily bucked forward, searching for friction against the heat that swam throughout his body. "Guhn, James..." he whimpered quietly, grinding against the other boy's hip.

James pulled back just a tiny bit, enough so that he could look up at Logan from beneath his eyelashes. Logan could see that his hazel eyes were blown wide with emotion, his pupils dilated with desire, and a light flush traveling up his neck. Logan almost forgot for a moment that this was the same person who appeared deathly ill several hours ago. "Yes, Logan?" James said softly, innocently.

"Not that I don't appreciate it, because I really, _really_ do..." Logan started, trying to repress the urge to press closer to James. "But what exactly are you doing?"

A spark kindled in James' gaze, something igniting and setting the hazel irises alight with flames and intensity. He leaned forward slightly, biting at Logan's earlobe before whispering, "Thanking you."

James quickly returned to his gentle ministrations against Logan's neck, probably leaving faded bruises as evidence of his deliriously sweet abuse. Logan moaned and his hips bucked forward yet again, trying to dispel some of the rising tension in his muscles and bones. He closed his eyes for a moment, considering James' words before pulling away slightly from the other boy's grip.

In one quick movement, he had grasped onto the side of James' face, pulling him close so that he was at eye-level, Logan lying on his back with James hovering over him. "Please don't... Not if this doesn't mean anything to you," Logan whispered, his voice slightly choked with frustration and desire.

James lowered himself until his chest was pressed flush against Logan's, the heat coalescing between the two of them and forming and tight circle of emotion and electricity. His hand lifted to Logan's cheek, the tip of his thumb caressing his skin, and Logan unconsciously leaned into the contact. He was desperately craving the contact James was offering, but he couldn't make himself accept it if this was simply a recompense.

James' gaze was smoldered with emotions, and despite Logan's best efforts, he couldn't read them. There was something inconceivable hidden in the hazel eyes, something inexplicably warm, and almost a little bereft, as though he was reaching out to Logan. "It _does _mean something."

With that, James closed the distance between them, and his lips captured Logan's in a slow, gentle kiss. His hand stay pressed against Logan's cheek for a moment, before gliding languidly down his neck, curving slightly, and pulling Logan closer. The tips of James' fingers blended with the dark hair that always stood up in several different directions, and he reveled in the feeling of it being sifted through his fingers.

The gentle caresses continued in every place they touched, and it was so simple and sweet that Logan couldn't question it for a moment. Their emotions were conveyed admirably through their every action, every little kiss or touch of the skin, the heat that followed their sheltered touch.

And after a while, they both settled into the abrupt comfort that had surrounded them, each of their grips tightening around the other. In a mirror embrace from the previous night, James' head end up buried in the juncture of Logan's neck and shoulder, as Logan's hand gently ran through the familiar, light brown hair.

"What happened last night?" Logan finally asked after about an hour of silence.

"Got caught a few miles outside of the cabin when the blizzard started... It took me forever to get back, and by the time I did, I was so cold I could barely move."

"Mmm," Logan mumbled noncommittally, thinking. "You called me first." It was spoken as a statement rather than a question, as though he already knew.

"Yeah, you're the one who's going to school to be a doctor," James said with a small chuckle. "Plus, I trusted you... I knew Kendall and Carlos would do anything they could, but I was afraid they wouldn't consider their actions first and get themselves hurt."

Suddenly James shifted so that he was on top of Logan, straddling his hips and staring down at him with a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Thanks for saving my life, Logie."

Logan just smiled warmly up at him for a moment, his gaze conveying everything. "And I'm going to guess you heard what I said last night?"

The blankets spilled around James' hips as his leaned closer. "'Bout what?"

Logan lifted an eyebrow as he watched James, before gesturing to their intertwined bodies. "I think it's rather obvious what I'm referring to... Unless, of course, you were just feelin' lucky?"

"Hm," James mumbled with a deceitful grin. "I just want to hear you say it."

Logan's features softened as a small smile fell across his expression. Once again, his hands found the side of James' face, pulling him closer so that he was staring directly into the fire-filled hazel eyes. "I love you, James. More than you could possibly know."

Emotion exploded within James' gaze once again, coalescing into a type of affection Logan was sure he'd never seen from the other boy. Their lips were brought together once again, caressing, dancing, moving together for a moment before James pulled away. "I love you, too, Logan."

Heat exploded within him, and Logan was sure he had found his place.

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**Author's Note: **Oh, how I love angst. Also, I apologize if this isn't all that great... I'm a bit stuck right now, writer's block and whatnot, and this was the first thing I've written in a while. I've wanted to write a story with this plot for a while now, and it's been a very long time since I've written something that has a bit more physical romance in it, so I wanted to add that bit in, as well. I did enjoy writing it, and I hope that you guys enjoy reading it just as much. :)

Thank you to everyone who has been encouraging my writing, or even simply acknowledging it. I cannot tell you appreciative I am to see all of the amazing feedback I've gotten on every single one of my stories. -sends everyone Christmas tree shaped cookies- :D

So what did everyone think of this? Was it believable enough? Too much, not enough? I would love to hear what you guys think.

Thanks again!


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